New Beginnings
by raphael-medina
Summary: Following the events of the Man Who Killed Batman, Dick Grayson moves back to Gotham City and into the palatial estate left him by his friend. A thrilling mystery begins as a new Batman appears in town and all of Gotham tries to discern his identity.
1. A New Life

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon in Gotham City, but a somber feeling filled the air with discontent. Gothamites were still dealing with the tragedy that had befallen them only a short time ago on their own streets. The time without the Batman had taken a serious toll on the inhabitants of Gotham City as crime slowly began to return to normal and then triple its activity virtually overnight. At first, it seemed like Superman's speech at the Batman's funeral had struck a chord with the once crime soaked town and that perhaps the denizens of Gotham were going to change their crooked ways and save their city. But they could only stay perfect for so long, and soon the grip of crime tightened once more. It appeared that Gotham City was worse now than it had ever been before, and this time there was no Dark Knight to save the people.

A lone motorcycle rode up to the gate's of palatial Wayne Manor and flew up the driveway. The rider, obviously no novice, knew the path around the courtyard obviously well as he rounded the steep turns at dangerously high speeds. His unique red motorcycle shined brightly when the light hit it. The cyclist finally came to a halt beneath a great oak tree near the garage and front door to the mansion. The leaves in the tree, a mix of yellow and red, reminded the rider of the first time he had approached Wayne Manor some ten years before and the tree had looked just like this. While reminiscing he ran his fingers over the emblem on his leather jacket; a yellow letter R embroidered on a green background. It saddened him when he remembered that he had not ridden this particular motorcycle or worn this leather jacket since the day he left in such a hurry some seven years ago.

Dick Grayson pushed his motorcycle into the garage of his new home and left his helmet sitting on the ground beside it. He shut the garage door and went back the way he came to enter Wayne Manor from the front door. After a month of litigation and another month tying up loose ends in BlÜdaven, Dick Grayson finally moved back to Gotham City and into the mansion that had been left to him by his close friend and mentor. Part of him believed that, perhaps, Wayne Manor should have gone to Bruce's illegitimate daughter Helena, also known as the Huntress, but she turned down living in the home to pursue her life elsewhere. Bruce had told Dick years ago that he would leave him everything in case something happened to him, because he was like a brother and a son. It had been especially hard for Dick to deal with his friend's death and that was quite possibly another reason that he had taken so long to come back to Gotham City.

The first step across the threshold was the hardest step that Dick had ever made in his life. He felt so alone now that Bruce Wayne was gone, and he couldn't shake the memories away. He remembered when he first walked into this home and mocked Bruce and his extravagant lifestyle. For a moment, he paused to wonder how different his life would be today if he had left Wayne Manor when he originally intended. He would probably be dead in a gutter somewhere, or rotting in prison. Bruce Wayne had given him a home, and inadvertently a purpose, and for that Dick would be eternally grateful.

For the first time in his life, Dick marveled at the magnificent grand staircase in the front room of his new mansion. The floors were white marble, with black weaving in and out like shadows. The railing was mahogany and two sets of stairs on either side of the hall met on the top floor. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the etiquette lesson he had received from Alfred on his first night in the house; the right side for going upstairs, and the left is for going downstairs. He had never listened to Alfred, often taking the left path upstairs and sliding down the railing to get down. This was just one of the irreplaceable memories held within this time capsule of a home. Underneath the stairs was a grand piano, where Alfred used to sit in the afternoon and play an entrancing melody for the world.

To the left of the staircase one would find Alfred's room and the garage. Bruce, Alfred and Dick had spent many an evening tinkering with the cars and motorcycles inside the garage, each man trying to prove his mechanical superiority. The last time Dick had seen this house, was when Alfred had fallen ill three years ago. He took time away from his career as Nightwing to spend a few days with his surrogate father before Macgregor's Syndrome claimed his life. Bruce never seemed to be quite the same after Alfred's passing, and he replaced Alfred's company with a dog he named Ace. Bruce became more reclusive than normal after Alfred's death and that was the last time he spoke to Dick or any other former partners for that matter. Dick found himself wishing that he had moved back to Gotham City then and tried to help his friend cope with his grief. Perhaps he wouldn't be dead if Dick had been here to help him as he had done in the past.

Dick shrugged off the past and continued through the house, passing the staircase and heading to the right, Dick passed down a long hallway that he had always referred to as the trophy hall. On either side of the hallway were statues and suits of armor that Bruce had gathered during his trips around the world. He had suits of armor from feudal Japan and ancient Chinese weaponry that had been crafted centuries ago. Dick remembered a time when he accidentally knocked over one of the suits of medieval armor and Bruce boasted about having to spend nearly a thousand dollars to get the metal fixed correctly. Dick had believed he was joking until Bruce hired an antique metallurgist to fix the armor who charged nearly a thousand dollars an hour for his services. From that moment on, Dick was careful to never break another priceless antique in his mentor's home.

Past the trophy hall was the expansive library comparable to the Gotham City Public Library in size and content. Along the walls above the books were more artifacts that Bruce Wayne had collected, these ones coming from Africa and Australia. Dick made his way to the far eastern corner of the library to an insignificant wall of books. On this bookshelf, Dick searched for a copy of the opera Mephistopheles on the shelf and slightly pulled the antique from the shelf. With the dull sound of machinery at work, the wall slid forward in front of the others and then slid out to the left. Behind the wall of books of books was an old metal elevator that led to a series of caves beneath the house. Dick climbed into the elevator, pulled the lever to activate the elevator and the wall of books slid back into place quietly.

As the elevator descended the caves, Dick thought back to the irony that Bruce had taught him about this particular entrance to the Batcave. He said that long ago these tunnels had been used to transport slaves during the days of the Underground Railroad and the book was then merely a coincidence. The irony came years later when his parents died, taking Bruce to see the opera Mephistopheles. Bruce said that before he even knew the truth about the caves, he felt compelled to pull back that book and his destiny became obvious.

The elevator came to a screeching halt on a thick stone pathway and Dick began his trek downward into the abyss. He could still hear the crashing waves of the Gotham River that ran beneath the cave system he stood in now. When he first found the Batcave, Dick was almost sure that he was going to trip and fall to his death in the shallow water. The single stone pathway met a large platform in the center of the caves that extended out naturally in eight different directions. To his left was the world renowned Bat Computer that Bruce had forged with his own bare using knowledge he learned on his travels and equipment from Wayne International. Dick could still remember what every button did and what every switch was used for.

Suddenly Dick heard scraping footsteps rapidly approaching him from his left and he quickly ducked into a defensive position. A shadow darted across the wall and Dick found himself struggling to keep his cool. What kind of person or creature would attack him in the Batcave so soon after Batman's death? But then again, perhaps in his absence some criminal or mutant had taken up residence in the caves beneath Wayne Manor and had claimed them for his own. Dick readied himself for anything as the ominous sound drew closer and closer.

In a flash, before Dick could react, a heavy weight came crashing down on his chest and sent him flying to the ground. His breath came in gasps as the mystery creature clawed his chest lightly again and again. A wet tongue ran over Dick's face and the smell was nearly enough to gag the poor young man as he fought to gain control of the situation. He pushed the creature off of his chest and leapt to his feet, wiping the saliva from his face with his coat sleeve. When he opened his eyes he half expected to see the Killer Croc or some other malevolent being attacking him. Instead he found himself face to face with an old decrepit quadruped that was half-blind and wobbled even when it stood still.

"Ace!" Dick shouted, kneeling down to give the dog from his past a big hug. He let the dog lick his face, but soon changed his mind on that thought when he caught wind of its breath once more. Apparently Ace had been in the Batcave for god only knows how long and had been staying in the garage. Off in the direction from which Ace had approached, Batman kept his numerous gadgets and vehicles in a second garage hidden beneath his normal upstairs garage. Beyond the garage was another secret passage that twisted and turned and eventually led out to an abandoned road that spiraled behind Wayne Manor and led deep into the heart of downtown Gotham City.

Straight ahead, however, was the famous costume wall that Batman had used to case all of his inventions and experiments in clothing. The first five cases were all suits that Batman had worn in the past; including the costume his father had worn that had inspired it all. Bruce had once recounted to Dick the story of his father at a Halloween masquerade ball that the Wayne's threw every year. Bruce told him that the night before he died; Thomas Wayne came to the party dressed up as a giant bat, with a gray cloth jumpsuit and blue gloves, boots, cape and a mask. Apparently Bruce's father, much like his son, had a penchant for the dramatic and made his entrance by descending from the rafters and knocking out four assailants who had been hired to kill him for political reasons. This costume would later inspire the uniform worn by the dreaded Batman, and Bruce would always refer to his father as the original Batman.

Beyond the various Batman suits were those worn by Batman's various partners over the years. Dick saw his first costume, the jumpsuit he had worn as a part of the Flying Graysons and his second, more high tech suit. He saw the prototype of the Nightwing suit and the outfits worn by the three separate Batgirls. Lastly in the lineup were the costumes created for Tim Drake, the Boy Wonder. Dick Grayson took a moment to remember what it was like to be Batman's sidekick. He thought about how it felt to dress up and play superhero, like every night was Halloween or a romp through the playground of your elementary school. Then Dick remembered the day he left. He remembered how he told Batman that he was tired of playing second fiddle to an old man who couldn't hold his own without him. Dick was saddened as he replayed that conversation in his mind and watched himself drive away from Wayne Manor with hatred in his heart.

Then, in the last case, Dick saw something that he had never seen before. One of the earlier cases of Batman suits had been empty, but Dick deduced that that costume must have been the one Batman was wearing when he died. But in the last case was a new suit, seemingly never worn before. It was a traditional black suit that seemed to glow silver when the light hit it. The Bat Symbol on the chest was a light blue with silver trim and the tips of the wings curved up slightly higher than those in the past. The mask had a bulletproof fiber guard that slid down over the eyes and could transfer vision to night vision, thermal vision or magnified vision as needed. The utility belt was silver and had more tiny compartments than some of its predecessors. The suit itself seemed heavier than others in the line-up, but seemed like it could remain amply dexterous in the right hands. The cape seemed a different material than before but the mask's design remained the same as it had in the past.

Dick felt so frustrated that he had not been around to save his mentor that he burst into tears when he saw this unused suit. He leaned up against the glass with his left hand while using his right sleeve to wipe the tears from his eyes. It wasn't fair, he thought as he slammed his fist against the glass. Just then, the glass door slowly slid aside and the suit came forward on a track. A light inside the case turned on and illuminated the suit. After the case opened, all of the lights came on in the Batcave and the Bat Computer mysteriously turned on. Dick ran back to the middle platform and over to the Bat Computer, trying to assess the situation. Suddenly, Bruce Wayne's face appeared on the screen looking as vibrant as the day Dick had last seen him.

"Hello, Dick. Welcome home."


	2. Phantoms

The bank alarm of the Fourth National Gotham Bank echoed through the streets of Gotham City, a reminder, impossible to ignore, that their silent guardian was gone and would not be there to protect them on this, or any other, night. A high powered explosive charge burst through the wall of the bank and an armored truck sped out of the building and flew down the streets of Gotham. Inside two thugs and the criminal mastermind known as the Scarecrow were hijacking the armored car and its contents. Scarecrow sat in the back of the truck counting his money while his henchmen drove and kept an eye out for the police. Fortunately for them, however, the police were quite rusty without Batman because they were not used to doing things by themselves.

"Hey boss," one of the scarecrow's henchmen called to the back of the truck. "Aren't you worried we are going to get caught?"

Scarecrow popped his head out from behind a thin curtain and stared at his distrustful henchmen. "How would we get caught? The Batman is dead, the police are running scared and I am the king of fear. In this new Gotham, I am a god and I rule a land of terror."

"Hey boss, what's that?" the driver asked, pointing into the sky. The Scarecrow shifted from the back over the seat and in between his henchmen. He struggled to see what his men saw, contorting his body in different directions to get a better angle.

"There is no way, it couldn't be," the second henchmen mumbled under his breath, his heart nearly skipping a beat. In the sky, shining as bright and clear as ever, was the famed Bat Signal; the beacon of light that seared even the deepest darkness.

"It's a trick," the Scarecrow cried, tossing his head back with wicked laughter. "The police are trying to scare ME into turning myself in over the fear of a ghost? HA! You'll have to try harder than that to foil the fear monger."

Suddenly a heavy thud resounded overhead, like the fall of boots on the roof of the truck. Everyone inside the truck stared up for a moment, awaiting some other noise that never came.

"It was probably a bird or a rock, boys. Don't you see, they've got us jumping at shadows now," the Scarecrow reassured his henchmen.

"And what do you do when the shadows jump back?" a fourth mysterious voice stated calmly from behind the seat. The Scarecrow and his men turned to find themselves face to face with a ghost, come back from the dead. Standing behind them was the Batman, looking as tall and menacing as ever, albeit in a newer and sleeker suit.

"Y-y-you can't be here! You're dead!" the Scarecrow shouted, his voice shaking with fear.

"What's the matter, Scarecrow, afraid of ghosts? I suggest you pull this car over right now." Batman reached into his utility belt and pulled out a small batarang which he threw at the parking brake of the armored car. Unable to gain control of the vehicle, the henchmen crashed it into a telephone pole and the truck rolled several times to a halt. The Scarecrow and his men climbed out of the wreckage and dusted themselves off. Scarecrow quickly began to run around, searching every shadow and rooftop for the Batman he had apparently seen in the truck.

"You see boys, there is no Batman. What we saw in the truck was merely an apparition; an illusion meant to scare us into submission. Now quickly, let us gather our riches and head back to our hideout before daybreak." Scarecrow's men quickly moved to the back of the truck and proceeded to load the money into duffle bags for easy travel. The Scarecrow, on the other hand, continued to keep a lookout for the Batman, in case his eyesight was not failing him.

"Looking for me, Crane?" the Batman asked, descending from the dark sky like a wraith.

"Who are you, imposter?" the Scarecrow questioned, threateningly waving his fists at his opponent.

"Don't you know? I'm the Batman."

"Boys, kill the Bat. I'll finish loading the money myself."

"With pleasure, boss man," the two thugs cried out together. The smaller of the two men ran straight at the Batman first, swinging violently for his face. Without breaking a sweat, the Batman dodged three consecutive punches and then caught the young man's left arm at the base of the wrist. One well placed right jab to the sternum sent the young criminal tumbling head over heels back the way he came. While the Batman had been distracted, the larger of the two men had snuck behind him and now scooped him up in a tight bear hug. At first, Batman struggled to break the gorilla's grip at the hands, but upon realizing the futility he began to elbow the brute in the temple. Eventually the giant dropped Batman and clutched his own throbbing skull. Batman dropped to one knee and spun around, tripping the behemoth at the knees. When he fell to the ground, the Batman descended on him like a viper, hitting him in the face with small blunt weapon and rendering him unconscious.

"It was good to see you again, Batman, but if you will excuse me, it is time I made my exit." The Scarecrow shouldered the three duffle bags full of money and began to run off into the night.

"Not so fast, Crane," the Batman said, quickly drawing and firing his grappling gun and wrapping it around the Scarecrow's ankle and pulling him in close to him. The Scarecrow lie on the ground face down, and Batman slowly rolled him over to examine him.

"Surprise!" the Scarecrow hollered, spraying his fear gas at the Batman from a vent in the cuff of his shirt.

"Not so fast, Scarecrow," Batman replied, his mask automatically dropping a shield over his mouth in response to the gas, filling his mask with pure, fresh oxygen.

"Too bat that's not the only trick up my sleeve." Scarecrow kicked the Batman in the gut with his good leg and let out a smoke screen gas from his other sleeve. With a chuckle, Scarecrow picked himself up off the ground and began to run away down a back alley.

"Damn." Batman quickly with a simple thought the Batman's mask telepathically red his desire and his eye shields came down to cover his eyes and seemlessly switched the view to thermal vision. He could see the Scarecrow trying to escape and quickly ran after him. Weighed down by the heavy money bags, the Batman had no problem getting ahead of the Scarecrow and cutting him off.

Scarecrow stumbled back and fell as the Batman seemed to appear in front of him out of thin air. Batman picked the criminal up by his collar and quickly delivered a crippling left cross to his jaw. He followed this up with a right uppercut and devastating side kick to the stomach. Scarecrow dropped to the ground, doubling over in pain and the Batman drug his body back toward his henchmen. Once reunited, he proceeded to tie all three of them up together and took to the skies.

James Gordon, always the hard worker, was sitting in his office at midnight on his birthday because his assistant commissioner needed the night off for "personal reasons." But James was used to working these hours, and he quite enjoyed leaning back in his chair and letting the moon give him just enough light with which to read a Sherlock Holmes novel. Back when he was head of the Major Crimes Unit, Gordon used to be at the office until all hours of the night working on cases. After the emergence of the Batman, Gordon would often run the Bat Signal at night and wait on the roof in case the Batman came to him for advice or information. He had been so engrossed in his novel that he had not even noticed the Bat Signal that shown in the sky right now.

Gordon jumped to attention when he felt a cold breeze hit the back of his neck. He reached for his pistol and prepared to turn and fire immediately.

"Don't turn around, Gordon," a familiar voice warned the chief of police.

"Batman?" asked Gordon, his voice filled with wonder and astonishment. "How did you-"

"No time. Check the front steps. Happy Birthday, Commissioner."

And with that the cold chill was gone. Gordon spun around and ran to the window which was closed and sealed shut. He stared out the window, searching for some inkling of proof as to what just happened. Seeing nothing, he cast off his experience as senility catching up with him. He decided that it was time to go home and get some rest. Just as he was collecting his jacket, cigarettes and book, his office door flew open and detective Davis McKinney stood there panicked.

"Commissioner, I think you're gonna want to see this."

Gordon followed his detective down ten flights of stairs and outside to the front steps of Gotham Central. There, tied together back to back, were the Scarecrow and his two henchmen. Right next to them was the three duffle bags worth of stolen money from the bank. Ten or more cops surrounded the villainous trio, examining them for weapons or some sign of deception.

"Good job, men. You've done me and your city proud tonight," Gordon proclaimed, praising his men for their good deeds.

"It wasn't us, Commissioner; we found them like this same as you. And we also found this note, sir." Detective McKinney handed Gordon a crumpled up piece of paper. On the paper were written three simple, yet ominous words. "Happy Birthday, Commissioner."

Just then a powerful floodlight broke through the darkness and blared down on the street in front of Gotham Central.

"Move those crooks," Gordon shouted, trying to get a better view of the light, "and everyone get out of the way." Realizing there was some undetectable sign in the light, Gordon ran back into the building to search for a better vantage point. He took the elevator to the roof, too exhausted to climb fifteen flights of stairs, and looked out over the edge of the roof. His jaw dropped and he began to laugh triumphantly.

The image cast down into the street was the ominous Bat Signal, and it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Someway, somehow, Gordon knew the Batman was watching over Gotham City like a guardian angel. A man could die, they contested, but the Batman was more than a man he was a symbol much like that flood light. And symbols are immortal.


	3. McGinnis

Gotham City was animated the morning after the apparent return of the Batman, and the topic was on the tip of everyone's tongue. Rumor had it that the Batman had come back from the dead to capture the Scarecrow and deliver him to the police the night before. No one had seen the Batman himself, but there were rumors that the Bat Signal mysteriously appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared seconds later. Criminals were running scared once more, this time fearful that an angry ghost was haunting them. The people of Gotham, however, breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in months and the police were more than happy to welcome back the Batman.

When Dick Grayson arrived at Wayne International, the topic of conversation was much the same. The only difference, however, was conversation about the Batman's lair being underneath Wayne International's corporate building the whole time. Dick ignored people's attempts to lure him into conversation claiming that he believed the whole story to be speculation and fantasy. He continued to the top of Wayne Tower and casually sauntered into the office of Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne International.

"May I help you, young man?" Fox asked irritated by the boy's blatant disregard for authority.

"Fox, it's me. Dick Grayson? But you can call me Richard now." Dick stated as if he expected Fox to remember him after the years he had been away.

"Dick Grayson?" Fox put on his glasses to get a better look. "Last time I saw you, you were a teenager. You've really grown up, Richard. What can I do for you?"

"I came here looking for a job, actually. After Bruce died, he left everything to me in his will and so I moved back to Gotham and now I'm out of a job."

"You know, come to think of it, I did have a fellow quit the other day in the claims department. I'll be honest with you, it's a boring job, but the pay is good and you even get your own office."

"I'll take it. When can I start?"

"How about I take you there right now?" Lucius Fox crawled out from behind his desk and began to lead Dick Grayson out the door and back down the hallway from which Dick had just come. They stopped at the end of the hall, two floors from the top and entered a small corner office. Dick immediately moved to the gigantic glass window overlooking Gotham City. He felt like he did when he was masquerading as Robin, looking down on the citizens of Gotham City as if they were ants, far below him. He threw himself into his comfortable leather chair and spun it around once before stopping at the computer. Lucius Fox slammed his fists down on the table and glared at Dick in an uncharacteristic moment of rage.

"Now, let's get one thing straight, Dick; I don't know if you're behind these new Batman shenanigans and I don't want to know, but I will not be able to protect you if you get into trouble. I told people about the Batcave underneath this place to throw off people's scent, just in case it was you, but that is all you get. You understand?"

"Yeah, I got you. I just don't understand what's going on around here anymore?"

"You mean you aren't the new Batman I saw on the news?"

"Are you kidding?" Dick jested. "I don't believe that hocus pocus I hear on the news to save my life. Bruce Wayne was Batman, not me."

"Even so, it's better for us both if we end this conversation now. Good bye, Dick."

Lucius Fox slammed the door on his way out and Dick began to play on the computer, opening up games and playing away for almost an hour.

_Bzzzt!_ "There's someone here to see you, Mr. Grayson." A female voice called through the intercom, causing Dick to jump three feet in the air.

"Who is this?" Dick asked, pressing down the intercom.

"This is your secretary, Mr. Grayson. There is a Miss Barbara Gordon here to see you, Sir. Should I send her in?"

"Oh yes, go ahead." Dick was in shock for a moment as he came to the realization that he had a secretary now.

His door flew open and a pretty young redhead in a wheelchair rolled into his new office. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and her eyes looked as though she hadn't slept all night. Her glasses sat in her lap, obviously hurting her eyes as she strained to keep herself awake.

"Babs, it's good to see you, it really is. What brings you up here to my new office?" Dick said, moving to the other side of his desk and sitting on the edge.

"Well I tried going by the mansion but you weren't home, so my next logical choice was here," Barbara said sarcastically.

"Ha, ha, very funny, Babs, but what's the truth?"

"This," Barbara said, rolling forward to Dick and throwing a newspaper on his desk. The headline read "Batman Returns" and was accompanied by pictures and a six page article about the events of the previous night. "I'm not stupid, Dick, but I am worried about you. We all miss him, but you can't just put on the suit and pretend to be him, all right? You can't bring him back from the dead that way. All you'll do is wind up dead somewhere after you meet up with some lunatic like he did."

"I didn't do this, Babs. I swear."

"It sure looks like you, Dick. And besides, you are the only one with access to the Batcave now. Tell me the truth, Dick."

"I didn't do it, damn it, and I'm sick of everyone accusing me of it. Last night I did go into the Batcave and I found a new suit that Bruce never even got to wear. When I touched the glass, all the lights in the Batcave turned on and the Batcomputer turned on. I watched a pre-recorded video of Bruce telling me that if something happened to him, I was to burn the mansion to the ground and erase any proof that he was Batman. I figured since everyone already knew thanks to Superman that my keeping the house wouldn't be out of the question. And then I went to bed. I swear to god, Babs, that's all that happened last night."

"For your sake, and for all of our sakes, I hope you're right, Dick." Barbara hit the automatic open on the door and wheeled herself out of Dick's office in silence. Dick stared out over the Gotham skyline and wondered if he had done last nights events. Had he repressed the memories by pretending to go to sleep? Had he just lied to Barbara without even knowing it and really taken on the mantle of his friend in his grief? And if he didn't do it, then who did?

_Bzzzt!_ "Emergency staff meeting, Grayson, head up to the meeting room right away," Lucius Fox buzzed Dick over his intercom.

"Right away, Buddy," Dick replied. He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind as he made his way upstairs for his meeting.

"What's so important that you needed to see me right away, Fox?" Dick said loudly as he charged into the meeting room headfirst without as much as a knock. All eyes in the room glared at his disrespect for the sanctity of their meeting room.

"You must be Mr. Grayson, I presume," a dashing young gentleman in a brown and gold suit stated, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yeah, and you are?" Dick asked, cocking his head sideways at the young man he had never met.

"Mr. Grayson, if you will please be seated we will try to finish this meeting as quickly as possible," Fox interrupted, staring Dick down into a seat at the table. The strapping man, hardly even Dick's age, straightened his tie, cleared his throat and stood up to speak. Dick noticed the peculiar way he wore his hair parted on one side and devised that this new kid was wealthy. He looked familiar to Dick, though he couldn't quite place his finger on why. Even the young man's voice when he spoke to him sounded familiar. Dick dismissed the notions as the young man took the floor and prepared to speak.

"I would like to take a moment to introduce myself to those of you I have not had the pleasure of meeting, my name is Terrence McGinnis and I am the new owner of Wayne International."


	4. Manhunt

Nightwing drifted across the night sky like a phantom floating through the air. He was every bit the silent protector that his old mentor had hoped that he would become. To the untrained eye, one might even mistake Nightwing for the Batman, minus the cape and mask. Their movements were generally the same, and neither man looked human as they glided from rooftop to rooftop on the wind. Nightwing eventually came to rest on a ledge at the top of a high tower. The Gotham Cathedral was the second tallest building in Gotham City and the Batman had often used its high perch to scan the city. Now Nightwing stood there overlooking his new home; he now knew hot it felt to Bruce Wayne when he stared out from this vantage point.

"Any lead on the Batman's whereabouts, Nightwing?"

"Nothing yet, Oracle," Nightwing replied, almost forgetting for a moment that she was in his ear on com link.

"Maybe there's nothing to see, Nightwing. What if this is all in your head?" Oracle asked concernedly.

"It is not in my head. And if it is, then staying out for another hour couldn't hurt."

"Okay, now you're starting to sound like the old man."

"Thanks."

"That wasn't a compliment. Besides, how do you even expect to find this Batman imposter? And if you do, what do you plan on doing about him?"

"I'm not sure yet. I just need to know that I'm not losing my mind out here. I'll handle the rest when I get there."

"Dick, be careful out there. This is dangerous territory-"

"Hold on, I think I see something."

A familiar light pierced the moonless night sky and a symbol of great power and meaning was etched into the clouds. Nightwing sat slack jawed for a moment as he stared at the Bat Signal floating in the air. It was every bit as beautiful and ominous as he remembered it from his dreams. He sighed regrettably when he thought about the fact that the man who had been his brother would not be answering the call. But someone would be, and he had to know who.

"It's the Bat Signal, isn't it? … Nightwing? … Dick?" Oracle's cries went unanswered as Nightwing dove headfirst from the cathedral tower and down toward Gotham's unforgiving streets. He instinctively pointed he left arm at the nearest building top and activated his wrist grappling hook. It immediately caught onto the edge of the roof and Nightwing raced off toward the Bat Signal's point of origin. He hoped to find the floodlight providing the signal before it went it out, in hopes of tracing its creator. It was a long shot, but it made more sense to him than running around Gotham City chasing shadows.

When Nightwing arrived within eyeshot of the floodlight, he easily came to recognize to recognize the building as the Gotham Observatory. It was centrally located and tall enough to reach anywhere in the city with ease. Nightwing somersaulted through the air and landed in a crouched position on the roof. He walked over to the floodlight and examined it for wires or a control panel. There was nothing. Dick realized that this Bat Signal was controlled elsewhere and he would find no more help on this building. It was quite plausible actually that this Bat Signal had been constructed by the Bruce Wayne himself. Bruce had several secret Bat Signals hidden all across Gotham City so that he could see them no matter where he was at the time. Besides that, Dick had been gone for ten years and had no idea how many signals Batman constructed in his absence. After he died, however, the Bat Signals were destroyed by the authorities; but it was obvious they had missed one.

"Hello, Nightwing. Welcome home," a low grumbling voice calmly stated from behind Nightwing. Nightwing quickly spun on his heels, assuming a defensive posture in case the intruder was hostile. What he saw, in a way, was more discouraging than if he had just seen another rogue. A criminal he could have handled; a criminal he could have trounced easily and then sent him back to Arkham or Blackgate where he belonged. But this was a different situation altogether. He couldn't simply throw the Batman in prison, after all.

"Who the hell are you?" Nightwing growled.

"Isn't it obvious?" the Batman responded sarcastically.

"Don't play games with games with me, stranger. Who the hell are you?"

"Look at me, Dick. You know who I am." The Batman walked closer to Nightwing who backed away and readied himself to strike at a moment's notice. The Batman knelt down and looked into Nightwing's eyes with all the compassion that Dick remembered and more. Nightwing jumped up from the ground and began to pace frantically, waving his arms as he spoke.

"It can't be. I saw your body and you are dead."

"Yes, but what does it truly mean to die, Dick?"

"It means your heart stops and they bury you in the ground. People don't just come back from the dead."

"Didn't I teach you anything? By devoting yourself to something far greater than one man, you become immortal. A symbol can never die."

"But a person can. And you did!"

"Damn it, Dick, look into my eyes," Batman grabbed Nightwing around the neck and pulled him in nose to nose. "Look into your heart and you will find the truth. You already know it though, don't you?"

"Stop talking riddles, goddamn it and tell me the truth." Nightwing broke the Batman's grip and turned away from him. "Who are you, and why are you doing this to us?"

The Batman came up to Nightwing and placed a comforting, fatherly, hand on his shoulder. He spoke not a word, but merely surveyed Gotham City alongside his one time partner and brother. Without warning, Nightwing suddenly began to wobble in place and eventually he fell to the ground. His eyes were closed, but his chest continued to rise and fall with each breath he took. The Batman stared down at him for a moment and shook his head slowly. Before leaping off the rooftop and disappearing again into the shadows, the Batman whispered a few consolatory words to his old friend.

"Sleep well, little Robin. All will be revealed in time."


	5. Unanswered Questions

Dick Grayson sprang out of bed looking disoriented and out of sorts. Somehow, he was back in his own bed in Wayne Manor and was dressed in his own pajamas. He had no recollection of how he had made it home last night and the last thing he remembered was feeling Batman's hand on his shoulder. He was still no closer to solving the mystery of who the imposter was and that nagging feeling drove him insane. But there was a part of Dick that did not really want to solve the mystery. He still wanted to believe in the idea that maybe Bruce Wayne was still alive out there somewhere. And maybe, just maybe, he was watching over him even as he lay in bed groggy and confused.

"You're up. That's good to see. We weren't exactly sure you were going to make it through the night."

"Bruce?" Dick asked, feeling that he recognized the voice coming from inside the room.

"Wayne? Ha! You must have had some party last night, if you think I'm Bruce Wayne. You want a cup of coffee?"

"Huh?" Dick watched the tall, well-dressed man walk toward him from the counter across the room but still couldn't shake the feeling that it was Bruce Wayne. Through his blurry eyed vision, he seemed to have the same square jaw and hair as his old friend. Dick rubbed the sleep dust from his eyes and looked again, but was only disappointed with what he saw. The man now sitting across the bed from him was no more Bruce Wayne than he was. His hair was jet black, where Bruce's was brown, and he was barely over half of Bruce's age. "Mister McGinnis?" Dick asked as he realized who sat across from him now.

"Please, just call me Terry. Here's some coffee, but be careful, it's hot."

"Thanks, Terry. So what are you doing here anyway?" Dick took a sip of his coffee and had to quickly spit it back into the cup because it was burned the tip of his tongue.

"I tried to tell you it was hot," Terry joked. "But in all seriousness, I actually came by to talk to you about Bruce Wayne. I understand you and he were good friends about a decade ago, is that right?"

"Yeah, Bruce took me in after my parent's died and I had nowhere else to go. What's that got to do with anything?" Dick asked, seeming awfully defensive.

"You know what; maybe we should talk about this when you're feeling better. Give me a call and we'll set up a meeting, Dick." Terry got up, finished his cup of coffee and reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver case from the inside of his jacket. He whipped out a small white business card and handed it to Dick. It read "Terrence McGinnis, Daylight Corporation" and had his telephone number at the bottom. Obviously he hadn't yet found the time to add Wayne International as one of his assets on his business card.

"I'll go ahead and give you a call tomorrow," Dick shouted out the door even though Terry was halfway to the door and had no real hope of hearing him with the horrible acoustics of Wayne Manor. Dick dropped his head against his pillows and closed his eyes. He reached for the phone which sat on the end table next to his headboard to call Barbara Gordon and ask her for details on what happened last night.

"So I guess this is when I'm supposed to let sleeping dogs lie, right?"

Dick sat up quickly when he heard Barbara at the door.

"I was just about to call you, Babs, I swear."

"I tell you if I had a nickel for every time a man said that to me…" Barbara Gordon laughed as she wheeled herself over to Dick's bedside. "So what happened out there last night, hotshot?"

"I was just about to ask you that same question. I was hoping you remembered what happened."

"Are you kidding? You cut transmission with me after I asked you for a progress report."

"Oh yeah, I'm sorry about that. I saw the Bat Signal in the sky and I got caught up in my mission. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Dick, just tell me you found out something worthwhile."

"I don't know, Babs, it's all just so confusing." Dick threw his hands back behind his head and fell against his pillow once more. "I swear sometimes that it is him out there and he is still alive. But I know that can't be true."

"What did you see out there, Dick?" Barbara leaned in close, pushing her square glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"I saw him, Barbara. He knew who I was and he even knew my name. I swear, he sounds just like him, Babs. It's unbelievable."

"And then what happened?"

"I don't remember. I just remember blacking out on the rooftop and then I woke up here."

"Oh…"

"Yeah, so you can imagine what I'm going through. What was McGinnis doing here anyway?"

"The guy who just left? I don't know. He was here before I showed up."

"Did he say anything to you? Or did he do anything strange?"

"Not really. He told me that the door was unlocked when he got here, so he came inside and found you lying in the front room. He said he brought you in here, laid you in bed and checked your vitals as best he could. He seems like a good guy to me though, Dick."

"Hmm, I'll look into him more later," Dick said as he placed the business card underneath his alarm clock on the end table.

"So what's the plan now?"

"I'm gonna do some follow-up on Tim Drake. He works at the observatory and he may be able to give me some insight into how that Bat Signal got up there."

"You don't think Tim is our guy, do you?"

Dick sat up and looked Barbara dead in the eyes with the most intense stare she had ever seen from him.

"At this point, everyone is a suspect."

Terrence McGinnis stood beneath the shade of the great oak tree outside of Wayne Manor and took a moment to marvel at the beauty of the building. He often wondered what the famous Wayne Manor must look like and it very much surpassed his initial expectations. For a home built on the top of a small mountain, the terrain was much more stable than he feared it would be. Terrence wondered what it must be like to live in a home like that. Of course he had a rather large home in Metropolis, but it paled in comparison to this. This was a masterpiece in his mind; just far enough from town to avoid the people, but high enough to look down and see the whole city. He wondered what it must've been like to be Bruce Wayne and grow up in a home just like this one. For a moment, he wondered what it must've been like to be Bruce Wayne.


	6. The Boy Wonder

Tim Drake had spent much of his childhood in the clutches of the ruthless underground tyrant known as the Sewer King. Drake had almost been given to the Killer Croc, Sewer King's accomplice, as a snack but survived due to his keen intellect. When the Batman found the Sewer King's warehouse and rescued the kidnapped children, Drake felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Then ten year old Drake devoted his life to uncovering the Batman's secret identity in the hopes that one day he could be Batman's sidekick. Three years later, Drake got his chance when Dick Grayson left Gotham City and the position of Robin became available. Drake snuck into the Batcave and waited for Bruce Wayne, sure that Batman would have to accept him as his partner if he knew his secret. The ploy worked, and thirteen year old Tim Drake became the second Robin and coined the nickname "The Boy Wonder." For three years he played superhero, until Batman mysteriously discharged him and sent him packing.

Tim Drake was never quite the same after that and he retreated to his studies, graduating high school at sixteen and completing his bachelor's degree by age eighteen. He was now a satellite technician and computer system's analyst. He worked at the Gotham City Observatory as head technician, quickly earning the respect of everyone there. Tim was still a quiet recluse, however, and few people at the observatory knew anything about his personal life. Tim Drake was responsible for the new positioning system in the telescope that instantly calculated star and constellation location using satellite imaging technology. Since his untimely resignation as the Boy Wonder, Drake had cut all ties with the Batman and all of his allies, and it seemed that he planned to keep things that way.

Dick Grayson took a tour of the observatory around noon and spotted Tim Drake tinkering with the complex telescope. He looked a lot different than Dick remembered, of course the only time they had seen each other was three years ago. Dick could see the pain in his eyes and knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was no way Tim Drake was the Batman. This quiet, shy, lonely boy could not have been the man that he had seen on the rooftop the night before. But still, maybe the boy knew who the new Batman was. Or maybe Dick was wrong, and this unassuming gentleman was the Batman. Dick's mental state was getting so out of whack that he didn't even know if he could trust his once flawless logic anymore.

Dick hung out at a restaurant on the corner across from the observatory for the rest of the day, biding his time until Tim Drake got off work. Finally around six o'clock he saw the disgruntled scientist get into his car drive away. Without even finishing his dinner, Dick left the restaurant and got into a taxi, ordering the driver to follow Drake. As they traveled deeper and deeper into the heart of the city, Dick began to wonder if they had been following the right car. The vehicle they were following was leading them into the heart of the narrows. Dick couldn't wrap his mind around why an accomplished scientist like Tim Drake would choose to live in the slums. The car they were trailing pulled into the parking lot of a small apartment complex and Dick told the driver to stop the car on the sidewalk outside of the complex. He watched Tim Drake get out of his car and carefully memorized which apartment was Drake's. Taking a deep breath, Dick Grayson marched headfirst into the unknown.

Dick climbed the rickety stairs slowly and carefully, worried that every step might be his last. He could feel the prying eyes of the people in the narrows watching his every step. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up when he thought he saw a little old woman in a rocking chair glaring at him through her window. A second glance confirmed that there was no one in the apartment, and perhaps Dick was losing his mind. Dick came to Tim's apartment, 345, and stood outside for a moment, pondering whether or not this course of action was wise; no one had seen Tim Drake or spoken to him in years and there was no telling what kind of mental state he might be in right now. Mustering up all the courage he could find, Dick knocked on the door three times and prayed for no one to answer.

Tim Drake quickly pulled the door open as far as the chain would allow him and stared at Dick like a rabid dog. Neither man said a word nor budged an inch and so Tim prepared to slam the door shut. Dick caught the door with his arm and tried to force it open.

"Timothy Drake, I'm-"

"I know who you are and I don't wanna talk to you." Tim slammed the door shut and nearly took off a few of Dick's fingers in the process. Dick pounded on the door, trying desperately to get Drake's attention.

"Please, Tim, I need to talk to you. I'll make it fast, I promise. I just need your help." Dick stopped pounding on the door for a moment and waited for a response. Just as he turned to walk away, the door swung open.

"Make it snappy."

Dick shut the door behind him as he walked into the apartment. He was utterly amazed at how drastically different the place looked on the inside as opposed to the outside. The apartment was spotless and everything was neatly organized, a testament to Drake's brilliant mind. There was not a lot of space in the one bedroom apartment and it seemed that there wasn't even a television set in the small home. Dick sat down on a small wooden stool and finally saw Tim Drake raiding his refrigerator for a snack. Drake came back out into his living room and sat down in the recliner across from Dick, a package of Ritz crackers and bits of cheese on a plate.

"What did you need?" Drake asked bluntly.

"I need your help. I'm trying to solve the mystery of who this mystery man is pretending to be Batman. Do you have any idea-"

"Nope, nope, nope, I refuse to talk about this. Get out of my house." Tim Drake stood up and pointed a threatening finger toward his front door. Dick stood up and tried to protest but Tim Drake wouldn't hear it. "Get the hell out of my house and don't come around here stirring up old wounds."

"What the hell is your problem?" Dick Grayson said, suddenly turning a hateful eye toward the younger Drake. "You think you can just leave all of us behind and turn a blind eye to our needs. We need-"

"It's always been about what you need hasn't it, Dick?" Tim Drake shouted, backing Dick up against the wall. "And don't talk to me about abandoning anyone. You're the one who just up and left one day because you weren't satisfied with being number two. Don't preach to me, Nightwing."

"You don't know a damn thing about me."

"And you don't know a goddamn thing about me either. Did you ever bother to find out why I Bruce kicked me out of the house? Or was that information not worth it to you?"

"I-"

"It's all your fault, Dick. Everything that happened was entirely your fault." Tim Drake dropped to his knees and began to sob. He punched the carpet repeating the phrase "It's all your fault." Dick moved away from the wall and started for the door.

"Do you want to know what happened to me?" Dick was speechless as he looked into Tim Drake's crazed eyes. "Back when you were Robin, do you remember hearing about some boy named Jason Todd who was killed by the Joker on Halloween? The one that dressed up like you and got killed for no reason? What am I saying, you probably have no clue what happened to him. Anyway, Jason Todd didn't die, he just disappeared from the hospital. Four years later, he shows back up in Gotham City calling himself the Red Robin and demanding your blood.

"Well by this time you had already conveniently skipped town and I was Robin. But that didn't matter to Todd; all that mattered was that Robin paid for what happened to him. Do you know what he did to me? Do you have any idea what he did to me?! For two weeks, he kept me locked up in his sick little warehouse. And he starved me, and he beat me and carved up my flesh. And I took it all for you! I went through all that because you couldn't handle being number two!"

Tim Drake was a sobbing angry mess on the floor and Dick Grayson was still speechless. Dick felt tears welling up inside and a lump grew in his throat.

"I killed him, Dick. Batman came to save me and I killed him. I couldn't help it, I was just so angry at him for what he had done to me. I smashed his head into the ground until my hands were stained with blood.

"And do you know how Bruce Wayne helped me get better. He put me in therapy and he fired me. He paid my medical bills and thought that would just make up for everything. Then he told me to go home and pack up my things. He said that he couldn't live with himself if something like that happened again.

"For the entire first year, all I could dream about was doing to you what I did to Jason Todd. I wanted to make you suffer like you made me suffer.

"I don't know anything about this new Batman and I don't care. I just want you out of my house, now…"

Dick Grayson wanted so badly to say something to sooth his pain, but he had no idea what he could do to ease his suffering. He wanted to comfort Tim Drake, but he knew his words would mean nothing to him. With his head hung low, Dick Grayson quietly exited the small apartment and left Tim Drake to his bleeding heart. Once outside, Dick Grayson fell back against the door and let his tears stream down his face. He couldn't even imagine the kind of pain Tim Drake had gone through. Dick Grayson wondered if this investigation was going to the death of him, one way or another.

Tim Drake crawled along the floor and into his room, fighting through the tears and the hatred exploding from within. He threw open his closet door and pulled a heavy box out from the overhead shelf. With a slight heave, Drake opened the box and began to sift through the rummage. Contained in this strongbox were all of Drake's mementos from his time as Robin the Boy Wonder. He had newspaper clippings, pictures and other relics he had gathered over his three year tenure beneath the Dark Knight. He stacked the papers and things to the right of the box, and finally seemed to reach what he had been searching for. Slowly, he retrieved from the box the folded up costume he had worn as a superhero. The colors were still bright and powerful and it looked as though it belonged in a museum rather than a box. He held it up to his face and drew in the scent, trying desperately to take in the essence of the life he used to have. Then he just fell again into crying, his tears dropping on the costume that once meant more to him than life itself.


End file.
